


An Absolution Free Apocalypse

by Whisky Speaks (Whisky_Speaks)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Drug Use, M/M, Sexual Content, Supernatural AU: Croatoan/End'verse, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisky_Speaks/pseuds/Whisky%20Speaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas will give anything to anybody, but when it comes to the Fearless Leader Dean has become everything Cas has simply isn't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Absolution Free Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually kind of part of a larger 2014 story that I'm working on. However, given the nature of the piece it wasn't going to fit into a story, and I liked it a little too much to get let it languish on my computer. Unfortunately at the rate the larger story is going this may be the only part to ever see the light of day.

Cas will give anything to anybody. Spread his legs, spread theirs, push poison into their pulsing veins when their hands are shaking too badly aim the needle. He baths himself in self indulgence and if he’s downing in a world gone cold he certainly tries not to notice. The drugs help with that; with a mind gone contentedly blurry the apocalypse seems a laughably abstract concept. 

It is rare for new comers to stagger into the camp. Most of humanity is long dead or past saving, but the world has always been filled minor miracles even if they rarely happen to the people in Cas’s life. It doesn’t take long for these new comers to hear the whispers and rumors about the camp. They quickly learn to avoid their Fearless Leader and listen in skeptical awe as they are told the eccentric man with a clipboard was once a Prophet of the Lord. 

He always knows when the new comers have been told about him, about what he is and what he once was. Their eyes track him as he moves through the camp and he counts the days till they show up at his door. They always come, they can’t resist the draw of a broken and fallen angel tied to a broken and fallen world, and he always gives them what they need.

He knows their Fearless Leader would say it was sex or drugs or, if he was feeling particularly nasty, some form of disease. And sometimes it is, but mostly what they are seeking is comfort. They know Hell is real, the world is burning and the Devil wears the gentle face of a well meaning young man, but they have never seen Heaven. So they come to the man that was an angel to seek revelation in a hut filled with smoke, and Cas gives them what they need. He never lies, but he only tells them the truths they want to hear. 

Cas will give anything to anybody, but there are some days he sends them away and reclines on his worn rug and waits. These nights are easy to predict, early May, the anniversary of Detroit, any night the trail for the elusive Colt goes cold. On these nights it is their Fearless Leader that fills Cas’s hut. On these nights it doesn’t matter what Cas has to give, because the broken man wearing a righteous face just takes.

Sometimes it’s with fists, never to his face and never hard enough to break a rib. A methodical form of abuse learned firsthand from another soldier consumed by a private war. He wasn’t always so careful, didn’t always need to be. When Cas’s skin still housed an angel’s un-fragmented grace a broken bone could be fixed with a thought. Fading mojo and broken foot had changed that. Cas had said he was being careless, that he tripped on patrol, it was clumsy, he was just so new to his fully human body. But he knows that Chuck who set the bone suspects a different story, one involving a failed hunt for a missing gun and the rage of a man who spent 40 years in Hell. Chuck never says anything and Cas is more than happy to leave unspoken suspicions unconfirmed. 

Some nights it’s sex, hard, unrepentant, and life-affirming. On these nights it feels as those their Fearless Leader is reaching deep into him. Searching Cas’s scarred self for the broken shards of an angel’s grace to him keep just this side of human. He hands, mouth, and very soul grip at Cas begging for healing and salvation. Seeking absolution that Cas never did have the power to grant. On these nights their Fearless Leader often comes in damp with holy water, demon’s blood still drying beneath his fingers. 

Cas gives him all he can, but it’s never enough. A little fallen angel from a garrison so expendable and unimportant that Heaven was willing to risk sending it into Hell could never hope to heal that soul deep brokenness. Could never be enough to fill the hole left by a mother who burned, a father who died, and brother who said yes. But Cas tries, uses the little pieces of Grace he has left to give his Fearless Leader warm dreams of lakes and pie scented kitchens. Of course even this smallest act of comfort will leave Cas gasping and weak for days, after all the Grace he uses the spin those dreams is the same that keep his heart beating. His Fearless Leader won’t notice that Cas isn’t around after that, he simply wakes the next day impossibly refreshed and ready to continue his suicide mission to kill the devil wearing his brother’s face. He leaves Cas, in the bed if was a night for sex or on the floor if it was a night for fists, and when their Fearless Leader leaves him, Cas closes his eyes and dreams of Dean.


End file.
